


The Best Intentions

by SaintImperator



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Gals being pals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-23 02:03:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11393085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaintImperator/pseuds/SaintImperator
Summary: Fwahe attempts to do something nice for Frigga





	The Best Intentions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tetsuna-chan](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Tetsuna-chan).



> Because more of them was requested. Here you go.

She was always finding such sweet ways to make herself appeal to me. The weekend that Frigga discovered I liked strawberries she went crazy, and practically sprouted a field of them in her bedroom. She’d bathed in strawberry soaps, scented her hair with oil made from their seeds. There was a lot of eating of strawberries too. I spent many a happy hour plucking them from strategic locations with my teeth. She seemed to enjoy the use of my mouth when it came to accomplishing tasks. 

It was not limited to pursuits of pleasure. I caught Frigga’s face flushing if I bit through cord instead of using a knife, or uncorked a bottle with my fangs. At first I thought she was ashamed of me, and tried to impose better table manners on myself. By and by I realized that was not the case and pushed myself to greater feats in order to show off for her. 

I tried anyway. I wasn’t good at this girlfriends stuff. Most of the people who’d shared a bed with me ended up being dinner too. I wasn’t in the business of getting second dates, let alone third, fourth, fifth and so on. I had managed to actually loose count of how many times Frigga and I had the pleasure of enjoying each other’s company. 

That was becoming a problem. I owed it to her now, to do nice things. She thought of them so effortlessly. She found I liked flowers, and took me to fields brimming with blossoms. She knew which of her dresses I liked, and how to tease her hair into yet prettier styles. Frigga had an arsenal of pretty things at her disposal to make her seem like she’d stepped out of an elegant painting instead of being born like the rest of us. 

I stared at myself in the dirty shard of glass, trying to force the crushed peonies I collected to make my cheeks look pink and full of life. They still seemed dusty and dead, like a corpse covered in cobwebs. The flower dust didn’t help. If I was going to paint myself, I’d need some of Frigga’s magic potions and powders to do it properly. I’d need her mirror too. I was getting nowhere with these scraps. 

She must like pretty things, surely. Her room was dripping in them, everything some kind of expensive woven tapestry. She had her name sewn into her hand towels. 

If I was going to compete and be the most beautiful thing amongst all her other possessions I was going to have to take this more seriously. I’d been planning to do it for a while, saving for myself the finest clothes from all the people I’d taken dregs from while I’d been away. Silks from the opium den, toe-pinching shoes from the young aristocrats, beads from the merchant’s daughters. I’d kept all of them in the hopes that they would be nice enough. The blood hadn’t fully come out of the silks, but it rather blended with the pattern of red poppies and did not stand out as much as I’d first feared. 

They were beautiful clothes, but I was not a beautiful person. I’d no idea how much wax was needed to get the elaborate hairstyles of the ladies I’d known to be found desirable to stay. They carried their hair like great ornamentations. When I put wax in mind it just stuck out in spikes or clumped together in weird bunches. I looked like a hedgehog, or the defensive fishes in Templeton’s books that inflated as they grew nervous. I did not want to be the nervous fish, I wanted to be an elegant lady. 

Frigga was likely to be away at this hour, giving me time to be alone in her room. She left the window unlocked for me, and no one in the library worried if I was heard in her room. They had all become used to me. 

The room was perfect of course, everything left in its intended order. I had no trouble finding her table, nor opening its many drawers. I thought I was bad about keeping old things, but Frigga took collecting to a new level. Everything was full of tiny jars, tins of powder and brushes so small a butterfly would’ve found them to puny to work with. What the hell were they supposed to be for? 

I felt suffocated in the shoes. I didn’t know how it was possible that their spiked heels and seventeen million straps could look so good on Frigga, while they only served to make my legs collect and bulge beneath them. They clung so tight they were cutting off circulation. I poked the little pockets of muscle and fat that was pinched between sections of their infernal twine cage bars. I had killed the person wearing them but maybe I ought to have torn apart the cobbler instead. 

I didn’t know where to start with all of the jars. Frigga didn’t appear to keep hair wax herself; she must’ve used some other solution to get her soft curls to set the way she wanted too. There was a neat little jar of silver pins, by the hundreds that I thought might have been the solution. I hadn’t the faintest idea how to work with them, and the little slivers of metal kept falling out of my hands. The wax had made them too slippery to work with. I wiped what I could off on the table cover, but there was still a generous coating. 

Kos damn the pins. 

I went for the brush. It had started off soft and white, but it didn’t stay that way for long. After a few strokes it was as spikey and irregular as my own head, a miniature-hedgehog. In a desperate attempt to salvage the hairbrush I ran for the sink, but it did not improve things. After holding both its bristles and my hair under the spicket, the wax still clung tight. 

I settled for smoothing back the choppy, irregular strands. That, at least seemed to work with minimal trouble. Now that my hair was sorted out I settled down to the little pixie-sized potions. I unscrewed the top of one, finding inside a thin brush coated in shimmering red polish. I assumed this was what made her lips look so shiny. 

I realized I was wrong the instant the brush went across my lips. The taste was all wrong, a horrible acrid chemical scent filled my nostrils and coated my tongue. I took the corner of the tablecloth and began to scrub furiously at my lips, trying to get the terrible shiny stuff off. My efforts were so frenzied that the little jars and powders began to rain down. They painted the carpet different colors. 

Kos damn these stupid shoes, these unholy foot-prisons! 

They must’ve made quite a noise too, for that was when Frigga burst in. Her eyes were blazing, ready for a fight. She had her cane out, the spiked point ready to strike, both hands wrapped around the dragon’s head hilt. 

She was expecting an intruder. 

“Fwahe?” She asked, blinking several times in disbelief. Once she had adjusted to the sight of me, she took in the rest of the room. I had no chance to explain myself before she turned over her shoulder and shouted to the others, “It’s alright! It’s only Fwahe!” 

Muttered cursing shouted back. It seems I had scared them. 

Frigga put down her cane and knelt by my side. She tried to hide a chuckle, “Babe, what happened to you?” 

“I was…trying to be pretty.” 

“It seems you were certinaly trying something.” She said. 

Frigga leaned into kiss me. I wasn’t able to push her away before her lips met mine. As a curtain raised in a flash so too did her eyes fly open. The features of her face contoted with disgust, furrowed brow, twisted lips. She wiped the remains of the foul polish off on the back of her hand. 

“Fwahe…this is nail polish. You’ve put nail polish on your lips.” 

“Well how was I supposed to know.” I whined, “Being pretty isn’t easy…apparently.” 

She tutted at me, as school mistress with unruly children, “What’s gotten into you? Do you want me to just show you how-“ 

“No!” I said, “No I don’t want you to do things for me! I’m good at doing things for me. I wanted to do something for you. That’s what the problem is.” 

She sat beside me, putting an arm around my shoulder. The silks gave her pause, but she didn’t end up commenting o them. “I haven’t asked you to do anything for me.” 

“I know.” I replied, “It’s just…you think of everything. There was the strawberries and the flowers and-“ 

“I don’t want anything in return.” She said, “I just thought you’d-“ 

“I know!” I said, then apologized for shouting. I didn’t mean to yell but sometimes explaining myself was ardous and took longer than it had any right too. She rubbed my back and waited paitently for an explination. Patience, yet another thing she posssesd and I did not. “I wanted to do something. For you...I wanted to be good. I am not good at this.” 

She kissed my cheek, “You are perfect at this, darling.” 

Frigga was only saying that to comfort me. I knew that, and it made it worse. She was able to tell, possessing that otherworldly arcane skill for sensing feelings in others. 

“But…well…you have rather made a mess of my room.” She said. 

“Sorry.” I muttered. 

“Mmm…I’m not sure sorry is going to cut it this time.” She said. 

I didn’t know what else to offer her, but when we met eachothers gazes, she winked. 

Oh. 

So it was going to be that kind of thing. 

I smiled, “How would you like me to make it up to you?” 

“Go and wash off first.” Frigga said, “It’s going to involve a lot of kisses and well…I would prefer you not taste like nail polish.” 

I slunk to the bathroom and did my best to scrub away all the wax and failed attempts at beautification. Scars and scowls were all I seemed to be made of anymore. It was hard to make it down the hall in the stupid shores. Kos damn them as well. 

In the time it had taken me to clean myself off, Frigga had fixed my mess, put down a new carpet and was waiting on the bed, stripped down a few layers. Her corset was exposed and I took a moment to admire it’s hard tailored lines against the soft arch of her back. 

“Won’t you help me out of this, darling?” Frigga asked. 

“Of course.” I said. 

I grabbed the laces and began to loosen them. 

“No, no.” Frigga said, “Those hands of yours have done enough damage for one day.” 

“Well what else am I supposed to do?” I asked. “I can’t do anything with these shoes on- my feet are useless!” 

“I wasn’t expecting you to use them either.” Frigga laughed. She turned and smiled at me before snapping her teeth together “But I’m sure you’ll think of something.” 

A moment later I was working to unlace a corset with my teeth. The strings that held it tight were not particularly easy to manipulate, nor were they very tasty, but I made do. Frigga certainly was enjoying herself, frequently snaking her hands through my hair or leaning back to tickle or pinch, trying to trip me up. She wasn’t playing fair. When I finally had the corset unlaced I went so far as to pry it free for her and fling it away, still yet hands free. She smiled. 

“Won’t you help me with my stockings love?” She asked, rolling up her skirt so that I had an easier time. 

She raised her eyebrows and smirked at me in the most unimaginably wonderful way. Who could deny that face a request so simple? I took the delicate fabric between my teeth, pulling it down her thigh, and over her knee. The stocking pooled at her ankle and she kicked the rest of it off while I trailed kisses up the remaining one. Right and left feet freed we worked through the final pieces of clothing. 

I hadn’t realized how much I wanted to hold her before she’d suddenly started asking me not too. Teeth could not gently brush hair over ears. They could not tenderly grasp hands and weave themselves between fingers. 

Frigga was having no trouble at all. She took my head, gently directing it to one place and then another. First it was kisses, beautiful and deep, the both of us so locked in lips and twisting tongues we had to remember to stop and breathe. Then I went up and down her neck, over her collarbone and down to her breasts. There was plenty to kiss and tease. She was soon sweating and letting out the cutest little gasps, all the while trying to maintain some airs of dignity. I was the one hiding smirks this time. 

“You devil.” She panted. 

“Vileblood.” I corrected. 

She pressed my head down between her spread legs before we became a war of one-liners. I parted her further, one hand to each thigh and she did not oppose it. If she was so fond of the many uses of my mouth I decided it was time to show her my full range. 

I had ruined her room, but let it be known that she ruined her own sheets. They were twisted, tangled and otherwise soiled while Frigga cried out to a vast range of gods and pressed me to go a little bit faster. For a while after her words disappeared and she was mumbling pleasurably into her pillows. 

I waited, with patience I hadn’t known I was capable of. My hands drummed on her thighs until she started to speak again. 

“G-get up here.” She panted. “That tongue of yours can no l-longer be trusted.” 

I was quick to comply. 

“No no.” She scolded, wagging her finger at me. “No more clothes on this bed.” 

I laughed, “Alright, love. Why don’t you use your teeth and rip them off for me?” 

She stuck out her tongue while I shrugged off the silks and tossed the shoes across the room. The second I lay down she had her lips on mine and her fingers slowly circling and teasing. 

“Frigga…Frigga come on.” I begged. 

She pulled herself on top of me, pressing her hips to mine while her fingers slowly worked their way inside of me. Free of the shoes my toes began to curl, and Frigga ran her tongue across my collarbone, letting kisses spill out across my chest. I began to squirm and pull her closer to me. My hands were tangled in her hair while she slowly teased moan after wanton moan out of me. 

Let it never be said that she was not skilled with her fingers. 

“Please.” I pleaded. “Frigga.” 

“You know I can’t resist you when you say my name like that, all in a huff.” She replied, planting one more kiss on my cheek before increasing her pace and doing exactly what I needed. 

I managed to say her name once more before words failed me and I was a sweat-covered mess, twin to her. Neither of us felt much like standing, wrapping sleepy arms around each other we relaxed with not a breath of space between us. I leaned against her chest, feeling it rise and fall with her heavy breaths. 

She kissed the top of my head, and I closed my eyes. 

“Promise to come mess up my room more often?” She mumbled. 

“Anytime.” I said, “Next time I’ll tear down the curtains.” 

“I always hated them.” She laughed. 

It wasn’t long before she fell asleep, and I knew that I was soon to follow. Before I went I took one backwards glance at the sleeping girl, sparkled with freckles. She’d fallen asleep with the same wry smirk on her lips. 

Kos above, there was nothing cuter.


End file.
